ENS 


T.E  WILKINSON 


UC-NRLF 


B    3    3M2    7bfl 


LIBRARY 

OK  THK 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


GIFT    OF 


Class     . 


/  y 


IN  VIVID  GARDENS 


SONGS  OF  THE  WOMAN 
SPIRIT 


BY 
MARGUERITE  WILKINSON 

(MARGUERITE  OGDEN  B1OELOW) 


BOSTON 
SHERMAN,  FRENCH  6-  COMPANY 

1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911 
SHERMAN,  FRENCH  &-  COMPANY 


TO 
MY  HUSBAND 


228731 


NOTE 

Of  the  poems  included  in  this  volume, 
the  following  have  been  published  in  The 
Independent:  "The  Prayer  of  Summer,*' 
"The  Nonconformist,"  "The  Endless 
Quest,"  "The  Answer"  and  "Fulfillment." 
"A  Woman's  Beloved:  A  Psalm"  appeared 
in  The  Craftsman;  "The  Ultimate  Vic 
tor"  and  "The  Woman  and  the  Prophet," 
in  The  New  York  Herald;  "The  Present: 
A  Challenge "  and  "  Equality,"  in  The 
Woman'i  Journal;  "  The  Song  of  the 
Bride  to  Be:  A  Woman's  Epithalamium," 
in  The  Forum;  "The  Claim,"  in  The  Mun- 
tfy  Magazine;  and  '*  The  Land  of  Orange 
Flowers"  in  Good  Health  Magazine.  The 
thanks  of  the  author  are  due  to  the  pro 
prietors  and  editors  of  these  periodicals  for 
permission  to  republish  in  the  present 
volume. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PART  I 

IX    VIVID    GARDENS 1 

THE  GREAT   WHITE   LAW 3 

WHO  IS  SHE  THAT  WAITS? 5 

THE   PRAYER  OF   SUMMER li 

SONGS  OF  THE  WOMAN  SPIRIT 

THE   PRIMITIVE   AND  THE   HISTORIC     .  17 

THE    PRESENT:    A    CHALLENGE      ...  22 

THE    PRESENT:    A    CLAIM 24 

THE  PRESENT:  A  SONG  OF  TRIUMPH  .      .  26 

THE    FUTURE:    A    SUMMONS 27 

THE    NEW    REDEEMER 29 

EQUALITY 33 

THE   WOMAN    AND  THE   PROPHET     ...  34 

THE  TWO  LOVES 37 

THE    ENDLESS    QUEST 38 

THE    ULTIMATE    VICTOR 39 

THE    NONCONFORMIST        44 

THE    PERFECT    WOMAN 45 

THE  WOMAN  OF   NOW 49 

PART  II 

THE    ANSWER 53 

THE   LAND  OF   ORANGE   FLOWERS    ...  54 

BETROTHAL 56 

TREASURES 58 

WITH    NATIVE   CANDOR                                       .  61 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

UNISON        6J 

THE    SECRET        ...........  63 

A   WOMAN'S   BEIXDVED 64 

SONG  OF  THE  BRIDE  TO  BE  ....  67 

FULFILLMENT 70 


PART  I 


IN  VIVID  GARDENS 

I  sought  a  place  of  music  and  of  light, 
Whence    I    might    greet    the    world    with    real 

power 

Of  singing  pressure  in  these  human  words 
That  are  my  tools.     And  hungrily  I  sought, 
As  one  who  starves  will  seek,  mad  with  delay, 
And  thirstily,  as  desert  wayfarers, 
Alone,  and  spent. 

Then   joyously    I    heard— 
Was  it  a  voice  melodic  as  the  wind, 
To  speak  divinely  through  a  Muse's  lips? 
Or  was  it  some  dark  Sibyl,  splcndid-souled 
As  tropic  night?     Or  was  it  a  far  shout 
From    ringing   days   while   yet   the   earth   was 

young 

With  primal  heat  and  all  the  race  lay  white 
Upon  the  anvils  of  the  Universe? 
Or  was  it  a  serener,  later  Word, 
New  spoken  by  the  living  lips  of  God, 
That  bade  me  enter  into  women's  lives, 
Resolved  to  know  their  travail  and  content, 
To  speak  the  hideous  riddle  of  the  scourge 
Upon  them  laid  since  Force  remade  the  world ; 
That  bade  me  walk  abreast  of  women's   souls 
To  learn  the  secrets  that  they  will  not  tell 
For  fear,  or  pride,  or  modesty,  or  love? 
"These  are  the  vivid  gardens,"  was  the  Voice, 
"Which  one  must  enter  gravely  and  with  pain, 


Seeking  a  place  of  music  and  of  light 

For  revelation  and  for  equity— 

These  are  the  vivid  gardens — women's  souls!" 

(  Such  flowers  have  I  seen,  of  such  fair  hue, 
Such  firm,  proud  forests,  such  ambitious  vines, 
And  such  illuminous  fruit  of  heavy  hours, 
Borne   where   the   soul   has    fed   on   blood   and 

tears, 

That  I  would  fain  report  them  to  a  world 
That  has  not  yet  full  vision  for  the  sight- 
Such  wild  and  rugged  flamboyance  of  growth 
As  mocks  the  little  housebound  rules   of  now, 
And  threatens  all  the  bondage  of  the  walls 
Where  crevices  occur — such  have  I  seen.^ 
And  I  have  noted  such  a  pregnant  power 
As  must  produce  a  new  variety 
When  our  old  customs  cheapen,  sour  and  stale. 
Such  would  I  herald  and  illuminate, 
If  but  my  speech  be  ample  for  the  task, 
If  little  words  of  mine  have  such  glad  force 
To  thrust  aside  a  moment  that  dull  cloud 
Of    veiling    vaporish    thought    that    hides    the 

Truth, 

The  blessed  Truth  as  I  have  seen  it  bloom 
In  vivid  gardens,  lusty,  radiant,  sweet. 


[2] 


THE  GREAT  WHITE  LAW 

The  swift  winds  ravish  the  blessed  sky, 
Cloud  enters  cloud,  soft  sailing  by, 

The  hills  have  breasts  and  the  waters  teem 
With     the     great     All-Father's     procreant 
dream. 

His  smile  is  seen  on  the  roadway  bright, 
Where  the  asters  bloom  with  a  grave  delight, 

Where    the    pollen    flickers    from    flower    to 
flower, 

And  the  seedpods  burst  every   sunny  hour. 

His    thoughts    are    born    where    the    summer 

reigns, 

Where    the   dragon   fly   his   bright   mate   con 
strains 
To   his   tense  embrace,  where   the  queen   of 

bees 
From  her  bridal   heights   her  pursuer  sees. 

His  words  are  spoken  where  robins  greet 
Their  brooding  loves  in  a  dalliance  sweet; 
Where  the  he-wolf  leaps,  where  his  strength 

is  spent, 

Where  the  she-wolf  suckles  her  young,  con 
tent. 


His  heart  is  known  in  the  loves  of  men, 
And  the  love  that  womanhood  gives  again, 
In  eager  lips,  and  in  tender  tears, 
In  poignant  joys,  and  in  glowing  fears. 

Full  many  a  law  has  the  Father  made 
By  which  the  myriad  worlds  are  swayed, 
And  all  are  holy,  for  man  or  beast, 
For  the  noblest  great,  or  the  weakest  least. 

But  health  and  beauty,  the  onward  urge 
Of  the  human  soul  to  the  farthest  verge 
Of  spacious  time — all  issue  straight 
From  the  fiat  given  for  mate  and  mate. 


[4] 


WHO  IS  SHE  THAT  WAITS? 

Who  is  she  that  waits,  lithe-limbed  and  serene, 

Where  morning  glories  tremble  into  the  day 
time? 

There  is  one  chaste,  haughty,  well  nigh  in 
vincible, 

Clear-eyed  and  calm,  to  weigh  well  your  words, 

Able  to  withdraw  and  meet  the  eyes  of  all  men 
steadily. 

Who  is  she,  intensively  alive,  throbbing  with 
unspent  life, 

From  sensitive  finger  tips  to  trained  strong 
holds  of  the  mind, 

Bold  and  sure-footed,  free  and  irresistibly 
magnetic? 

Verily,  she  is  the  most  perfect  of  the  virgins. 

Sound  of  body  she  is,  she  holds  rich  gifts  in 
her  warm  arms: 

Strongly  moulded  arc  shoulders  and  thighs, 

Full,  fair  and  round  the  divine  breast  of 
womanhood. 

Alert  and  active  is  her  mind ;  her  nature  loving, 
interested,  dominant. 

She  is  ready  to  give  and  to  receive  abundantly, 

Ready  to  blossom  and  to  bear  the  rich  fruitage 
of  love; 

But  now  she  is  unconscious,  she  knows  no  need, 
no  emptiness. 

[5] 


Where   is  he   that   can   enter  body,  mind   and 
spirit,   bringing   only   what   is   pure? 

Who  is  she  that  waits,  vivid  as  a  rose,  tremu 
lous,  eager  for  joy? 
Who  is  waiting  where  clematis  curtains  vibrate 

gently  in  the  dark, 
Where  the  delicate  blossoms  of  the  moonflower 

open   their  hearts   to  love? 
There   is   one   reaching  out  trembling  fingers, 
Looking  with  eyes  of  deep  questioning  into  the 

eyes  of  another, 
One  who  enfolds  for  the  first  time  a  newly  won 

privilege  and  pain, 

Putting  aside  virginity,  tasting  a  new  magnitude, 
Ready  to  surrender  all  for  love's  sake,  that  he 

may  rejoice. 
She  is  the  woman  receptive,  who  is  to  become 

the  life  giver; 

But  now,  where  soft  breezes  caress  the  clematis, 
She  knows  naught  but  to  give  and  to  spend  for 

him  she  loves — 
She  would  share  his  joy,  she  would  become  his 

glory. 
And  it   is   for  this   cause  she  hides   him   close, 

with   thanksgiving, 
For  a  woman  is  not  as  a  man : 
Men  love  the  bodies  of  all  sweet  women, 
And  he  that  is  born  of  the  spirit  loves  the  soul 

of  one; 

[6] 


But  the  noblest  women  love  the  souls  of  all 
men,  and  admit  one  right  of  flesh  and 
blood, 

And  she  who  yields  her  lips  falsely,  finds  no 


To  men,  all  women  are  accessible  and  one  holy, 
To  women,  all  men  are  sacred  and  one  access- 

sible. 
Therefore,  let  one  come   who  is  ready  to  meet 

this  woman  in  love. 

Who  is  she  waiting  weary  and  heavy  laden, 
Where  violets   and  meadow  rue  shoot  new  life 

through  the  sodden  soil? 

There  is  one  with  wide  eyes  circled  and  dark, 
Who  walks  slowly,  lest  she  should  fall. 
She  is  the  woman  expectant,  about  to  be  sancti 

fied, 
Learning  patience,  accepting  the  offerings  of 

pain  and  tears. 

She  is  the  life-giver,  potent  in  motherhood, 
Greatest  of  all  from  generation  to  generation  ; 
Not  a  mother  of  children  only,  not  merely  a 

mother  of  the  bodies  of  mankind, 
But  a  proud  mother  of  sane  men  and  women, 
Of  fathers  and  mothers  most  glorious,  yet  to 

be, 

Of  heroes  and  statesmen,  poets  and  artists, 
Of  practical  workers,  both  women  and  men. 

[T] 


And  she  is  the  mother  of  their  minds  equally 
with  their  flesh, 

And  of  the  renewed  spirit  of  the  world,  forever 
and  ever — 

She  is  a  link  in  the  chain  of  eternity. 

She  will  descend  gladly  into  the  valley  where 
the  death  mists  hang, 

And  drag  thence  the  beginnings  of  another 
life; 

She  will  know  the  wildest  throbbing  of  nerve 
and  tension  of  sinew, 

The  harsh  agony  of  pressure,  the  strain  and 
huge  ache  of  passing, 

The  limitless  fatigue. 

And  also,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  it  shall  be 
hers 

To  travail  for  the  souls  of  her  children, 

And  for  him  who  rests  in  her  bosom. 

Do  men  alone  live  for  the  mass  and  for  futu 
rity? 

Do  we,  indeed,  live  only  for  ourselves  and  a 
few  individuals? 

Have  we  not,  rather,  swelled  the  sum  of  the 
world's  greatness  from  the  beginning, 

Equally  with  the  men,  by  toil  and  tears, 

Even  when  down-trodden,  degraded  and  en 
slaved  ? 


[8] 


Hearken,    sons    of    men,    for    I    bespeak    and 

summon  one  of  you 
Worthy  to  censure  this  woman,  or  to  lay  his 

burden  upon  her! 

\Yho  is  she  that  waits  fulfilled  in  all  gentleness, 

Free,  chaste,  generous  as  ever,  but  calm  and 
at  peace? 

Who  is  waiting  where  goldenrod  and  purple 
asters  glow  in  sprightly  profusion? 

Lo!  there  is  one  with  gray  or  fading  hair,  with 
eyes  of  wise,  kind  depth. 

All  things  become  her  well,  for  she  has  strug 
gled  and  enjoyed, 

Lived,  suffered  and  been  purified. 

Nothing  can  she  do  in  benevolence  and 
strength 

That  can  detract  from  the  dignity  of  her  ful 
fillment. 

Hers  are  bright  walks  in  sunny  air, 

Long  hours  of  holy  meditation, 

The  love  and  reverence  of  those  to  whom  she 
has  given. 

Hers  are  all  occupations,  all  learning,  all 
songs,  all  poems,  all  creations. 

Hers  is  counsel  and  the  knowledge  of  human- 
ity- 

For  the  world  needs  the  wisdom  of  fulfilled 
and  honorable  women. 


What  she  has  spent  has  returned  to  her  in  in 
finite  spiritual  values ; 

She  is  become  a  glowing  light  for  all  mankind, 

And  hers  is  the  right  to  spend  each  day  as  she 
would  wish  to  spend  her  last. 

Above  all  else,  it  is  hers,  so  long  as  she  shall 
live, 

To    forward    her    immortal    spirit    within    the 

gates  of  God,  forever, 
The  woman  triumphant! 


[10] 


THE  PRAYER  OF  SUMMER 
BOY  AND  GIRL: 

From  the  nights  of  mist  and  moonshine, 
From  the  ardent  days  of  summer, 
From  the  daisy  dimpled  meadow, 
And  the  milkweed  scented  roadside, 
And  the  quiet  pools  sequestered, 
Where  the  water  lilies  blossom 
And  the  dragonflies  are  mating— 
Hasten  we  into  the  woodland, 
There  to  bow  before  our  Father, 
Offering  the  prayer  of  summer. 

THE  BOY: 

Grant  me  greater  body  prowess, 

Healthier  skin  and  tauter  sinew, 

Speed  in  swimming  and  in  running, 

Hardihood  and  strength  in  climbing 

Upward  from  the  river  valley, 

Where   the  turtles   plunge   and  paddle, 

Upward  on  the  sun-baked  hillside 

To  the  crags  by  hemlocks  guarded ; 

There  to  look  abroad  and  visit 

With  glad  eyes  the  spreading  distance; 

There  to  look  abroad  and  challenge 

All  the  future  and  the  distance 

To  a  fight — the  future  beckons! 

Certainty  of  quick  decision 

Grant  me  when  the  need  is  greatest, 

HI  i 


In  the  game  or  in  the  battle. 
And  at  sundown  let  me  listen 
But  a  space  to  Thy  great  music — 
Windswept   chord   and   ripple's   rapture; 
Grant   me  girth  and  height,   full  stature 
Of  the  manhood  I  am  making. 


THE  GIRL: 

Grant  me  health,  the  flush  of  wonder 
Won  by  riding  through  the  woodland, 
Or  by  tennis,  or  by  rowing; 
Grant  me  swift,  untrammeled  action 
Of  my  mind  and  of  my  body, 
Greater  verve  and  proud  endurance 
Of  each  little  daily  hardship, 
Soundest  nights  and  vivid  daytime. 
All  my  human,  woman  nature 
Let  me  find  alert  and  active, 
Natural  and  bright  in  blossom 
As  the  open  fields  of  clover. 
I  would  be  as  lithe  and  supple 
As  the  willows  by  the  river; 
I  would  climb  the  highest  hilltops 
That  have  known  my  brother's  footsteps ; 
I  would  read  on  sunny  beaches 
Many  laws  Thy  hands  have  graven — 
So  to  learn  the  mighty  secret 
Through    the   woodland   softly    whispered, 
Of  my  life  and  of  its  meaning. 
[12] 


BOTH: 

Where  the  wood  is  darkest,  deepest, 
We,  Thy  children,  bow  before  Thee, 
Claiming  bounty  of  Thy  bounty- 
Health  and  strength  and  poise  of  body 
And  of  mind,  a  drawing  nearer 
To  our  fullest  human  beauty — 
In  the  nights  of  mist  and  moonshine, 
In  the  ardent  days  of  summer, 
Offering  the  prayer  of  summer. 


[13] 


SONGS  OF  THE  WOMAN   SPIRIT 


THE   PRIMITIVE  AND  THE   HISTORIC 

From    deepest    fdrcst    umbrage,    where    vines 

were  matted  dense, 
From  new-born  pools  of  water,  from  sky-flung 

mounds  immense, 

From  ages  never  numbered,  and  times  out 
worn,  I  cry 

My  message  and  my  story,  to  hush  a  living 
lie! 

For  still  I  claim  the  surging  of  blood  once  fiery 

hot, 
Rejoice  in  tireless  sinews,  though  now  I  know 

them  not, 
And  feel  fierce  joy  of  battle  with  beasts  that 

once  I  slew — 

In  those  glad  days  of  struggle,  I  proved  my 
birthright  true. 

And  oh!  the  nights  of  summer,  when   I  drank 

deep  and  long 
Of  blood   that  I  had  vanquished,  and  sang  a 

savage  song, 

And    jm-sstd    earth's    raw,    ripe    fruitage    to 

lips   untainted    then, 
And    knew    the    shock   of   plunging   to   cool 

ponds  in  the  fYn  ! 


[H] 


And  oh!  the  nights  of  summer,  half  battle  and 

half  rest, 
When  first  I  clasped  his  forehead  to  my  round, 

perfect  breast, 

When   first,  with   sharp   embraces,  we  wres 
tled  in  the  night, 

When  first,  with  throes  triumphant,  I  paid 
for  his  delight! 

And  oh!  the  days  of  winter,  when  in  the  cold 

and  wild, 
With  limbs  no  longer  nimble,  I  travailed  for  his 

child, 
And  fought  the  wolves  at  sundown,  impelled 

by  love  to  fight — 

With  firebrands   red,  I  fought  them,  in  all 
my  mother  might! 

Unchallenged  was  my  birthright,  my  place  be 
side  the  man, 

Until  the  beasts  were  conquered,  and  the  suc 
ceeding  plan 
Of     an     imperious     Nature     was     satisfied 

through  me ; 

Then,  by  my  power  of  life-gift,  his  slave  I 
came  to  be. 


[18] 


Because  my  body  weakened  by  birth  pangs  oft 
sustained, 

Ilr  swoiv  (;<><{  in.-ulr  nio  liuiiil)!.-  and  liram^d 
of  what  he  gained, 

He  swore  God  made  me  humble  and  lifted 
him  on  high, 

He  made  a  myth  of  Adam  to  pass  my  birth 
right  by. 

The  forests,  burned  and  girded,  came  crashing 

to  the  earth, 
By  him  the  beasts  were  mated,  for  him  they 

came  to  birth, 
To  him  the  quarry  yielded  bright  treasure 

ages  old, 

For  him  my  heart  was  cheated,  for  him  my 
breasts  were  sold ! 

Still    hot    I    feel    the   scourging   of   whips    he 

wrought  for  me, 
And   still   I   loathe   the   passion   my   flesh  bore 

helplessly— 
In  harems  we  were  herded,  degraded  by  his 

lust, 

To  shake  the  chains  a  little  had  laid  us  in 
the  dust! 


[19] 


He  knew  a  hundred  women,  self  chosen,  of  the 

best, 
He  bought  my  lips'  caresses,  I  toiled  for  him 

unblest ; 
I  might  not  choose  my  lover,  yet  for  him  I 

must  bear, 

If  he  should  look  upon   me  with  eyes   that 
found  me  fair. 

To  him  whose  lust  had  bound  me,  no  more  I 

gave  my  mind, 
I  pampered  him,  amused  him,  and  to  his  wrath 

inclined, 
I  cheated  him  with  laughter  and  tricked  him 

with  a  kiss, 

The  master  of  my  body,  I  pierced  his  soul 
by  this. 

Sweet   vengeance!   yet   all   hungry   my   human 

spirit  sped 

Back  through  the  ranging  eons  to  find  a  com 
rade,   dead, 
A  mate  who  knew  me  human — not  thus,  for 

best  and  least, 

Allowing   wings    angelic   with   limits   of   the 
beast. 


[20] 


M \   von-  \\itli  oM  uoilil  force*  .1  li«:i\y  battli 

bore, 
Grew  stalwart  in  the  struggle  and  triumphed 

more  and  more; 
But  my  poor  woman  daughters,  half  garish 

and  half  pale, 

Were  bond  slaves  of  the  body.     God  let  the 
truth  prevail ! 


[21] 


THE  PRESENT:  A  CHALLENGE 

Arc  we,  indeed,  but  things  of  pleasure, 
Sweets  of  life  for  the  lightest  mood, 
Gilded  and  trimmed,  a  flippant  treasure, 

Handled  and  cheapened,  spurned  or  wooed? 
Listen,  you  who  believe  this  lying, 

Wild  on  the  winds  a  chorus  swells, 

And  I  hear  the  woman  heart  replying, 

Fool!  go  find  you  a  cap  and  bells! 

Burdened  and  bruised,  shall  we  go  choking, 

Forever,  down  to  the  dust  at  your  feet, 
You  your  own  wrong  discreetly  cloaking, 

Who  doubt  our  souls,  though  our  lips  are 

sweet  ? 

Ay,  sweet  enough,  too  sweet  for  your  win 
ning— 

At  last  we  are  out  in  the  open  air, 
Where  our  voices  sound  for  a  new  begin 
ning— 
Beast,  go  back  to  your  jungle  lair! 

Strong  in  labor  and  self-reliance, 
We  were  born  for  the  cause,  the  fight, 

The  world-old  travail,  the  new  defiance, 
The  proudest  place  and  the  fullest  right. 


[22] 


Then    shall    we    say,   when    our   youth    is 
tender, 

"None  there  is  who  can  kill  this  lie. 
Body,  your  utmost  tribute  render, 

Soul,  go  out  in  the  dark  and  die!"? 

No!     For  the  cleansing  winds   are  blowing 

Over  the  earth,  and  the  chorus  swells 
To  a  paean  huge.     Man's  power  is  growing 
Outward  to  reach  a  hundred  hells. 

Frank-eyed,      clean-limbed      brother,      my 

dearest, 
Who  will  not  take  where  you  may  not 

give, 

In  you  is  our  mighty  hope  read  clearest, 
t,  come  into  my  heart  and  lire! 


i « i 


THE  PRESENT:  A  CLAIM 

All  the  world  is  mine, 

Mine  and  yours,  brother; 
All  the  stars  that  shine, 

All  the  winds  that  blow, 
All  the  living  flowers 

God  has  planted,  brother, 
For  your  eyes'  delight 

And  my  pleasure  glow. 

Birth  and  growth  for  me, 

As  for  you,  brother, 
Mighty  destiny, 

Issuing  from  warm  flesh; 
Labor,  passion,  joy— 

We  shall  know  them,  brother, 
Till  our  carnal  life 

Feeds  the  earth  afresh. 

At  your  side  I  stand, 

Of  a  right,  brother, 
Power  in  my  hand, 

Glory  in  my  heart ; 
Where  your  children  dance, 

My  children  sing,  brother, 
And  as  you  have  served, 

I  have  done  my  part. 


[24] 


Ask  a  guerdon  bright 

For  your  toil,  brother ; 
Such  a  day's  delight 

I  could  claim  as  well. 
Travail,  toil  and  bonds 

Know  my  body,  brother— 
To  the  highest  heavens 

I  have  looked  from  Hell. 

Long  as  life  endures, 

You  and  I,  brother, 
Claiming  mine  and  yours, 

Live  to  be  divine; 
From  the  rising  sun, 

To  the  setting,  brother, 
All  the  world  is  yours, 

All  the  world  is  mine! 


[25] 


THE  PRESENT:  A  SONG  OF  TRIUMPH 

I  have  taken  once  more  my  birthright, 

O  vine  blossoms,  bloom  and  be  glad— 
'Twas  sorrow  that  ever  I  lost  it, 

The  trees  of  the  forest  were  sad; 
For  I  was  a  mother  of  children, 

But  never  a  mother  of  men, 
And  never  a  mother  of  women, 

Alas !     I  was  impotent  then. 

I  have  taken  once  more  my  birthright, 

O  wolves  of  the  forest,  beware ! 
My  throat  is  alive  with  the  war-cry, 

The  song  of  the  spirit.     I  fare 
To  a  battle  that  surely  will  crown  me 

With  glorious  peace;  I  befriend 
The  best  in  the  man,  in  the  woman. 

O  wild  forest  singers,  attend! 

I  have  taken  once  more  my  birthright, 

O  pools  of  the  forest,  my  flesh, 
Long  soiled  by  the  passion  of  ages, 

Is  yours  to  restore,  to  refresh! 
I  spring  from  the  dark  to  my  freedom, 

Exultant  and  choosing  my  way, 
Athrill  with  the  glorious  sunshine 

That  circles  the  world  of  to-day ! 


[36] 


THE  FUTURE:     A  SUMMONS 

Come,  sing  a  paean,  sing  a  song  of  gladness, 
Thongs  that  have  bound  us,  swiftly  now  we 

break ; 

Frail  limbs  we  strengthen,  giving  joy  for  sad 
ness, 
Dull  eyes  unclosing,  bidding  sleepers  wake! 

Come,  we  are  potent,  floods  of  life  are  flowing 
Through  veins   once  sluggish,  muscles   once 

inert ; 

Come,  let  us  take  his  hand  and  prove  by  grow 
ing 
That  mind  and  body  live  and  are  alert. 

Come  let  us  take  his  hand  and  call  him  brother ! 

Once  he  was  blind,  but  now,  with  vision  clear, 
Loves  for  one  home,  one  father  and  one  mother, 

Honors  our  strength  and  bids  us  hold  him 
dear. 

Up,  ever  up,  the  highest  heights  ascending, 
Till  we  can  hear  eternal  music  ring, 

The  spirit  man  and  spirit  woman  blending, 
Till,  reunited,  each  to  each  we  cling! 


[27] 


THE  NEW  REDEEMER 

A    RHAPSODY 

O  ye  winds  that  sweep  the  high  arched  skies, 
And  O  strong  stirrings  of  the  cedars, 
Sing  again  and  yet  again  in  triumph, 
The  majesty  of  a  man's  self  mastery ! 

Fierce  and  eager  colors  of  the  rich  sun, 
Golds  and  reds  of  reflected  glories, 
Picture  me  the  holiness  of  unstained  flesh! 

O  ye  wild   untainted   perfumes  of  a  thousand 

blossoms, 
Rival   if  you  can  the  perfect  sweetness  of  his 

breath ! 

Nay,  sun  and  wind  and  flowers, 
And  the  throb  of  life  in  the  air  of  God, 
May  not  rival  nor  excel  his  perfection, 
They  only  contribute  to  it; 
They  do  not  explain  him, 

But  they  are  one  with  the  unsullied  and  perfect 
son  of  God. 

He  has  strong  thews  and  sinews, 

Mighty   limbs,  a  deep,  slow-heaving  bosom; 

He  takes  from  the  swift  winds  an  everlasting 

girt. 


Bright   hair,    full-shining   eyes,    and    exquisite 

flush  of  the  skin  are  his ; 
He  has  taken  them  from  the  beloved  sun, 
But  from  the  spirit  of  God  is  his  manly  glory. 

He  has  said  in  his  heart,  yea,  and  aloud  to  man 
kind  shall  he  say, 
"Lo!     I  bend  me  not  above  woman  till  I  meet 

her  whom  my  soul  loves ; 

I  will  not  soil  myself  with  the  unclean  woman, 
I  will  not  selfishly  defile  the  clean  woman,  with 

marriage  or  without. 
I  bear  the  burden,  I  accept  the  struggle — I  am 

content. 

I  hold  myself  in  all  that  I  have  or  am, 
Sweet  and  unstained,  perfect  and  ready 
For  that  woman  of  God  who  is  worthy  of  me; 
That  I  may  be  lovely  in  her  sight, 
And  that  our  union  be  a  holy  thing, 
Honored  of  God,  attended  by  His  love. 
For  where  love  is  and  passion  is  controlled, 
There  is  all  high,  pure,  beautiful,  worthy  of 

God; 
But  where  passion  is  and  love's  bright  face  is 

hidden, 
There  is  life  low,  foul,  ugly,  and  there  God 

blushes !" 


[SO] 


Out  of  the  dusky  light  of  pain  and  sorrowing, 
Arise,  O  tender  voice  of  humankind,  and  sweetly 

and  serenely  sing! 
Lo!  ye  harlots,  one  comes  who  points  the  way 

to  your  redemption ! 

Lo!  daughters  of  men,  one  comes  who  has  com 
passion  on  your  travail! 
Hail !    blessed   and   honored    woman   whom   his 

soul  loves, 

Whom  he  has  singled  out  to  be  his  bride ! 
Know  that  blessed  are  the  fingers  that  lay  hold 

upon  him, 
Consecrated    are    the   white   breasts    where   he 

lays  his  face ! 
Perfectly   he  will   give   the  gift  of   gifts   with 

most  complete  joy, 
For  he   is   more   precious   than   most   precious 

gems, 
In  her  eyes  who  with  just  reverence  looks  upon 

him, 
In  her  eyes  who  has  won  him. 

Of  those  who  approach  near  to  woman,  only  he 
is  worthy  of  her  travail, 

Worthy  to  fill  her  body  with  the  fruitage  of 
his  rich  love ; 

He,  alone,  of  a  right  may  stand  beside  her,  de 
manding  her  best, 

For  he  is  at  one  with  her,  equal,  and  at  peace, 

Since  he  has  made  his  body  to  tally  with  his 

[81] 


Sing  ye  his  glory,  O  winds!  Burn  it  deep 
with  thy  rays,  O  sun ! 

Mirror  his  fertile  splendors,  O  thriving  blos 
soms  ! 

O  tender  voice  of  humankind,  speak  his  praise, 
thank  God  for  him ! 

For  that  man  is  worthy  of  the  day  of  life's 

sweet  pleasure, 
Who  has   held  himself  proud   and   pure  as  in 

virginity, 
For  the  woman  his  soul  loves ! 


[32] 


Mated  to  stand  together 

Proudly,  and  side  by  side, 
In  flesh,  in  mind,  in  spirit, 

Is  the  bridegroom  more  than  the  bride? 

Is  the  father  more  than  the  mother? 

Never,  since  time  began, 
Since  the  tale  of  life-gift  opened, 

Was  the  woman  less  than  the  man. 

Born  to  an  equal  glory, 

Out  of  an  old  delight, 
Urged  by  a  paean  mighty, 

Into  an  equal  fight, 

They  shall  go  on  together, 

Surely,  and  hand  in  hand, 
Victors  upon  the  hilltops, 

Strong  for  a  God's  command! 


i  ••»  i 


fix" 


THE  WOMAN  AND  THE  PROPHET 

A    BALLAD 

A  prophet  spoke  to  a  woman  brave, 

A  woman  whose  eyes  were  deep  and  sweet, 
And  he  said,  "O  woman,  thy  golden  hair 

Hangs  low  to  thy  tender  feet, 

"Thy  flesh  is  less  than  my  flesh  can  bend, 
Thy  strength  is  less  than  my  strength  can 
break, 

And  yet  a  word  of  thy  lips  I  ask, 
A  thought,  for  wisdom's  sake. 

"I  love  mankind,  love  high  and  low, 
I  long  to  give  them  a  message  true, 

Yet  I  speak  to  them  and  they  will  not  hear — 
Said  she,  "Is  thy  wisdom  new?" 

"I  fasted  and  prayed,"  he  said,  "and  spoke ; 

My  heart  was  steeped  in  the  thing  I  said, 
But  they   turned  from   me   for   a  clown's  dull 
jest—" 

Said  she,  "Hath  thy  body  bled?" 

Then  the  prophet  rose  and  touched  in  amaze 
His  sound  white  flesh  that  was  delicate, 

And  the  woman  laughed  in  his  face  and  said, 
"Shall  a  prophet  hesitate? 

[34] 


"Lo!     I  am  a  woman,  scorned  of  men 

For   my   round   white   breasts,   and   my   wo 


man's  heart, 


Yet  I  scorn  you  men  who  would  do  great  deeds 
And  will  not  dare  the  smart! 

"Do  you  know  that  for  every  man  that  lives 
One  woman's  flesh  hath  been  wrenched  and 
torn? 

That  because  of  pain  new  beauty  lives, 
New  magnitude  is  bom? 

"Do  you  think,  because  you  are  manly  made, 
You  may  wear  all  glowing  crowns  at  will, 

Becoming  kings  and  poets  and  gods, 
With  never  a  tear  to  spill? 

"Smile,  bow  and  murmur  thy  words  at  ease, 

Perchance  the  indolent  will  attend- 
But  think  not  all  mankind  to  win, 
With  just  small  coin  to  spend." 

The  prophet  knelt  where  her  golden  hair 
Swept  wild  and  free  round  her  body  sweet, 

And  he  bowed  him  low  in  humility, 
And  kissed  her  tender  feet. 


I  M  | 


"For,"  he  said,  "in  thy  heart,  not  mine,  is 
truth, 

And  the  best  of  truth  thou  hast  given  me; 
I  go  full-poised  to  the  struggle  now, 

That  the  world  may  nobler  be." 

Then  he  went  and  gave  to  the  world  his  word, 
His  mite  of  truth,  and,  in  giving,  died ; 

But  when  his  ashes  were  scattered  far, 
Men  claimed  him  with  joy  and  pride. 

With  sad,  sweet  eyes,  and  with  close-bound 
hair, 

The  woman  who  sent  him  lived  alone, 
For  when  she  had  pierced  his  heart  with  truth, 

She  had  pierced  and  slain  her  own ! 


[36] 


TIIK  TWO  LOVES 

Two  loves  there  are  that  claim  mankind, 
And  one  has  eyes,  but  one  is  blind; 

And  one  is  born  of  flesh  and  will, 

But  one  can  all  the  law  fulfill. 

One  chooses  lightly,  colors  fair, 

Rich  charms  of  sight,  full  floating  hair; 

One  sees  an  inward  angel  rise 

In  might  before  a  paradise. 

One  seeks  and  wins  for  self  and  sense, 

Then  crushes  love  for  fires  intense; 

One  guards  and  tends  and  teaches  strength, 
And  lifts  love  into  Heaven,  at  length. 

One  claims  love  as  a  needed  sweet, 
Then  treads  it  out  beneath  rough  feet; 
One  bleeds  and  dies  for  love  alone, 
Or  loving  lives,  love  all  unknown. 

One  furnishes  a  fleeting  joy, 

Of  time-tried  gold,  the  brief  alloy; 

One  builds  forever,  buoyantly, 

The  pillars  of  eternity. 

Two  loves  there  are  that  claim  mankind, 

To  heal  or  devastate  the  mind, 

But  you  with  hearts  divinely  wise, 
Know   which   is   blind,   and   which   has   eyes. 
[37] 


THE  ENDLESS  QUEST 

Ay,  rest  is  sweet,  and  pillowed  ease  has  charms, 

Success  can  lull  us  to  a  vast  delight, 
And  Victory  is  a  lover  in  whose  arms 

Both  days  gone  by  and  days  to  come  seem 

bright. 
More  tonic  are  the  myriad  wild  alarms 

That   rouse   our   human   nature   from   warm 

night, 
Stripping    soft    wrappings    from    us    lest    the 

harms 

Of  too  great  pleasure  be  the  spirit's  blight ; 
For  always  crowns  are  less  than  bravery 
And  kisses  less  than  love,  praise  less  than 

deeds ; 
The  hero  finds  new  fights  eternally, 

The    savior    of    the    people    finds    new 

needs- — 
To  arms,  my  soul!  and  with  a  grand 

unrest 
Rejoice  to  glorify  the  endless  quest. 


[38] 


THE  ULTIMATE  VICTOR 
LIFE: 

Man-child,  face  me,  know  me  well- 
Much  of  Heaven  and  much  of  Hell. 
Toys  and  ease  are  for  the  fool, 
Fight  you  must  if  you  would  rule ; 
And,  if  battle  you  begin, 
Know  that  surely  I  shall  win. 

THE  MAN-CHILD: 

Strong  and  taut  my  muscles  are, 
Life,  I  see  you  from  afar, 
Trodden  down  by  my  young  feet, 
Forced  to  yield  me  guerdons  sweet. 

LIFE: 

Laughter  have  I  for  the  threat! 
You  have  known  no  burden  yet; 
For  those  muscles  you  must  win 
Food  and  shelter — haste,  begin— 
And  the  winning,  day  by  day, 
Spends  their  strength,  entails  delay; 
For,  to  conquer  me  there  needs 
More  than   flesh  that  burns  and  bleeds. 


[391 


THE  MAN-CHILD: 

More  I  have  than  sinews  strong, 
Powers  of  mind  to  me  belong, 
Knowledge  new  proclaims  my  sway, 
Heralds  me  your  lord  to-day. 

LIFE: 

But  that  power  I  can  destroy ; 
Lordliness,  without  alloy, 
Is  for  none  that  I  have  known, 
I  am  monarch  all  alone. 
Brawny  arm,  or  bosom  bare, 
Stalwart  shoulders,  shimmering  hair, 
Have  strange  power  to  lure  the  mind, 
Bent  as  tree  tops  in  the  wind. 
Let  the  lips  of  love  draw  near, 
Children's  voices,  fresh  and  clear, 
Of  your  substance  born,  begot — 

THE  MAN-CHILD: 

That  is  but  the  common  lot ! 

LIFE: 

Then  the  burden,  without  grace, 
Soon  shall  bend  your  sodden  face, 
Till  you  bite  the  dust  at  last, 
Burdenless,  I  hold  you  fast! 


[40] 


THE  MAN-CHILD: 

But   know   this,   though   flesh   should    fail, 
Though  the  mind  should  not  prevail, 
They  can  soothe  your  ache  and  smart, 
Who  have  courage  in  the  heart. 

LIFE: 

When  you  sweat  beneath  my  load, 

Know  my  pressure,  feel  my  goad; 

When  you  eat  my  bitter  bread, 

Piteous  and  uncomforted; 

When,  with  haggard,  hungry  eyes, 

You  discern  the  rotten  lies, 

Hidden,  where  you  thought  most  true 

Bloomed  my  flowers  fresh  for  you ; 

WThen  you  see  how  dully  ends 

All   you   sought — fame,   fortune,    friends ; 

When  my  power  has  bred  disease 

In  such  limbs  and  looks  as  these, 

Which  now  are  yours,  but  soon  may  be 

Rank  and  wan  as  misery; 

When  you  feel  me  work  within, 

Impulses  as  mad  as  sin 

Shall  torment  you,  fear  and  doubt 

Shall  cast  your  vaunted  courage  out. 


THE  MAN-CHILD: 

Though  you  suck  the  blood  of  strength 
From  my  limbs  and  cheeks  at  length ; 
Though  you  doubly  lie  and  cheat, 
Till  my  mind  must  own  defeat; 
Though  to  death  you  lure  me  on, 
Unrewarded,  withered,  wan, 
Courage  shall  not  faint  or  fall— 
I,  who  little  have,  give  all; 
Living,  though  I  try  and  fail, 
Yet,  at  last,  I  shall  prevail; 
Having  tried  all  other  ways, 
Dying,  I  shall  win  your  praise! 

LIFE: 

Praise  and  blame  are  not  for  me. 
Thousands,  later  on,  may  see 
Heroism  now  unknown, 
Or  may  not;  I  claim  my  own. 
What  of  life  to  you  I  gave, 
Made  you  mine  as  tool  or  slave. 

THE  MAN-CHILD: 

Slave  I  am  not ;  look  and  see. 
Life,  I  do  not  yield !     For  me, 
Praise  or  blame,  or  dark  or  light, 
Upward,  onward,  I  will  fight; 
Bruised  and  burdened,  without  rest, 
Yet  shall  courage  meet  the  test ; 
[42] 


Blinded,  buffeted,  betrayed, 

I  may  be,  but  never  swayed 

From  my  course;  and,  yielding  breath 

At  the  last;  to  bitter  death, 

I  shall  cry  a  challenge  still— 


LIFE: 

Then  I  bend  me  to  your  will ! 


[43] 


THE  NONCONFORMIST 

Make  straight  a  path  through  untilled  lands, 

Through  groves  of  lusty  trees; 
Make   straight   a   way   o'er    roughened   steeps, 
A  way  o'er  swinging  seas ; — 

For  the  old  path  was  a  good  path 
For  the  old  who  walked  thereon, 
But  for  me  and  mine  the  rude  path, 

The  crude  path,  is  the  good  path; 
For  my  young  feet,  the  rude  path 
Is  best  to  tread  upon. 

I  have  left  the  safe  and  easy  house 

For  a  habitation  wild; 
I  have  left  the  harbor's  rest  secure 
For  the  waves  by  tempests  piled; 

Sweet   food   and   drink   and   the   old   loves 

I  left  on  the  way  I  trod, 
But  for  me  and  mine  the  hard  ways, 

And  the  barred  ways  are  starred  ways; 
For  my  strong  limbs  the  hard  ways 
Are  the  ways  that  lead  to  God! 


[44] 


TIIK  PKUFKCT  WOMAN 

Long  have  we  waited  for  her,  yet  she  comes 
At  last,  of  all  vain  fancies  dispossessed 
jAnd  by  the  ages'  mastery  made  fair, 
The  perfect  woman ! 

Of  the  deep  woods  sprung, 
Lithe  as  the  birches,  hardy  as  the  pine, 
And  nourished  of  wild  berries  and  wild  blood, 
She  knew  at  first  but  instincts  swift  and  sweet — 
To  eat,  to  sleep,  to  mate,  to  bear,  to  fight ; 
Untrained,  unskilled  and  never  understood 
Was  each  proud   impulse,   mad   and   yet  quite 

sane. 

For  reasons  all  unknown  were  hate  and  love 
Born  in  her,  brought  to  life  and  given  rein 
To  work  their  utmost  will  of  ruin  or  health. 
The  dupe  of  Nature,  like  her  human  mate, 
She  took  life's  maddest  summer  to  her  arms 
And  hugged  it  close,  nor  dreamed  that  all  its 

heat 

Must  bring  sure  travail  to  herself,  her  sex, 
And,  latterly,  to  all  the  human  race. 

Then  sullen  peace  her  destiny  obscured; 

For,  as  the  sunlight  hides  the  brooding  storm 

That,  seeming  silent,  lives  in  sultry  air, 

So  she,  in  those  wild  days  of  physical  force, 

Bowed,  seeming  mute,  to  man's  rude  mastery. 

[45] 


Her  heart  in  bondage,  as  she  weaker  grew, 
Smouldered  a  hidden  flame,  brooded  a  storm, 
Deep  hidden  in  behavior  sunny  sweet, 
But  sweet  perforce  and  by  sly  artifice, 
Not  glorified  by  spontaneity. 

A  thousand  myths  around  her  rang  and  clashed 
Sharp  challenge  to  the  vanguard  of  the  Truth. 
Some  said,  who  little  thought,  "She  has  no 

soul," 

And  others,  gentler,  "Chiefly  soul  is  she"; 
And  others,  "She  is  merely  motherly, 
And,  of  her  glorious  travail  dispossessed, 
Loses  the  heritage  of  this  human  life, 
The  vital  consciousness  of  joy  or  pain." 
And,    thinking    this,    they    built    for    her    one 

throne, 

Whereon  to  reign ;  or  else  one  bitter  Hell, 
Into  whose  personal  perdition  cast, 
'Twere  sin  for  her  to  leave  for  highest  Heaven. 
One  glory  far  outshining  all  the  rest, 
As  sun  does  stars,  they  granted ;  but  the  rest, 
With  little  reason,  heavily  they  seized, 
Saying,  "Who  hath  the  sun  need  never  tire 
Of  his  sharp,  passionate  beams,  nor  tiring  wish 
The  sane  and  lucid  Heaven  of  nightly  calm- 
No  change  and  no  divine  alternative — 
She  is  a  mother,  or  a  thing  of  flesh, 
Dull,  meaningless  and  void." 

[46] 


And  thus  they  spoke, 
Who  saw  but  one  relation  in  this  life 
For  her,  and  that  the  one  in  which  themselves 
Had    share.     Yet   for   themselves   they   lightly 

found 

A  myriad  ways  to  serve  the  Highest  Will. 
Better,  they  claimed,  that  virgins  free  and  pure 
Be  seized  by  grizzled  ruffians,  and  bereft 
Of  every  power  to  govern  heart  and  mind 
And   breast   and    limb   and   life,   than,    failing 

love, 

To  miss  the  breeding  power  that  gives  us  sons. 
The    storm    that    brooded    grew,   now    rumbles 

near, 

And  all  the  world  with  questioning  is  dark, 
Where  those  who  hate  her  ever  say  too  much, 
Because  their   hate   is   craven,   and   those  who 

love 

Too  little  say  because  they  feel  too  much, 
And  feeling,  fight  half  armed. 

Break,  break,  dull  clouds! 
Roll  on,  O  wondrous  storming  voices  all ! 
Beat   rains,   and,   O   ye   winds,   blow,   blow   us 

clean, 

And  cool  us  as  the  actual  earth  is  cooled, 
When     summer    storms,    departing,    yield    at 

length 
Their    treasured    bow.     From    out    the    storm 

shall  speak 

[47] 


The  quiet  but  far-reaching  voice  of  Truth, 
Brooking  no  argument  and  no  defiance, 
Which  shall  proclaim  her.     For  she  comes  at 

last, 

Our  great  Aurora  whom  all  dawns  have  sought, 
Our  fair  first  sister,  summing  womanhood 
In  fullest  power,  a  stalwart  human  type, 
A  heroine  to  meet  a  hero's  mind 
And  call  him  comrade,  lover,  husband,  son, 
In  perfect  bonds  of  perfect  sympathy; 
Not    gray    and    nervous,    hailing    from    vain 

nights, 

When  day's  unfinished  task  was  still  pursued, 
While  stars,  insulted,  beckoned  her  to  bed ; 
But  strong  of  loin  as  she  is  broad  of  brow 
And  great  in  mental  as  in  physical  worth, 
And  well  abreast  of  that  which  suits  her  time, 
Through  her  the  symbols  of  our  glory  shine — 
Strength,   poise   and    prowess,   hardihood    and 

love, 

The  arms  of  righteous  wars,  the  arts  of  peace, 
The  tender  look  of  mates  well  satisfied, 
The   faces    of   the   Future's   children,   glad 
Because  of  age-long  prophecy  fulfilled. 


[48] 


THE  WOMAN  OF  NOW 

We  have  suffered  ages  long, 

For  the  sake  of  man  and  child, 
For  many  births  enforced, 

By  bitter  lust  defiled; 
We  have  tasted  shame  and  the  lash, 

And  the  conqueror's  harem  filled; 
We  have  drunken  deep  of  tears, 

Of  bitter  tears  distilled. 

To-day  I  give  my  love 

And  I  will  not  rest  in  chains, 
Higher  than  love  with  force, 

Is  the  love  that  force  restrains. 
Warm  lips  were  made  for  my  own, 

Strong  arms  may  the  distance  span, 
But  I  go  full-poised  at  his  side, 

If  ever  I  walk  with  a  man. 

And  now,  if  I  be  loved, 

I  must  be  loved  for  my  best ; 
He  shall  honor  mind  and  heart, 

Who  slumbers  on  my  breast. 
Till  my  spirit  find  her  own, 

World  without  end  I  wait, 
And  I  will  not  give  myself, 

Till  I  find  my  perfect  mate ! 


[49] 


PART  II 


THE  ANSWER 

Once  (and  perchance  it  will  happen  again), 

There  was  a  chorus  of  young  voices  eager  to 
know  what  love  is 

And  how  it  may  be  recognized. 

And  all  the  worlds  of  God  and  all  His  laws  com 
bined  to  answer  them, 

But  few  heard. 

Love  is  not  joy  in  the  body  nor  joy  in  the 
beautiful, 

It  is  not  passion,  nor  is  it  passionless, 

But  these  things  love  does  and  by  these  it  may 
be  known. 

Love  stands  armed  in  the  house  door  to  protect 
the  mother 

And  gives  the  strength  of  the  body  to  nourish 
the  child. 

Love  faces  travail  and  the  chance  of  death  un 
daunted. 

It  nurses  sickness,  enriches  poverty,  and  laughs 
at  ill  report ; 

It  fills  with  strong  wine  the  chalice  of  courage. 

Love  makes  truth  out  of  falsehood  and  control 
out  of  lawlessness ; 

It  places  the    spirit  on  a  throne  over  the  body. 

Know  that  when  you  have  seen  these  things  you 
have  seen  love. 


[53] 


THE  LAND  OF  ORANGE  FLOWERS 

There's  a  dear  land  where  the  orange  blossoms 

blow ! 

There's  a  far  land  where  the  living  waters  flow ! 
In  the  tender,  dreamy  light, 
Is  a  vision  here  to-night, 

Of  the  dear  land,  of  the  far  land,  where  the 
orange  blossoms  blow. 

In  the  good  land  where  the  mating  robins  call, 
Where  the  soft  concealing  shadows  rise  and  fall 

On  a  face  I  long  to  see, 

There  are  arms  held  out  to  me, 
Much     imploring,     deep     adoring,     where     the 
mating  robins  call. 

In    the    glad    land    where    the    gentle    breezes 

breathe, 
Fairy     garlands,     Love,     together     we     shall 

wreathe ; 

Heart  to  heart  and  hand  in  hand, 
Love,  together  we  shall  stand, 
Chained  with  garlands  fast  together,  where  the 
gentle  breezes  breathe. 


On  the  shore-line  where  the  living  waters  flow, 
We  shall  watch  the  golden  sunbeams  come  and 
go; 

In  the  shadow  land  of  mating  we  shall  stay. 
Finding  faith  and  hope  and   love  for  every 

day; 

Where  the  gentle  breezes  kiss  us,  we  shall  rest, 
Flower-crowned,     and     chained     and     bound, 

among  the  blest ; 
In  that  glad  land  we  shall  know, 
All  the  vision's  glint  and  glow, 
In   the  dear  land,  in   the  far  land,  where  the 
orange  blossoms  blow. 


[55] 


BETROTHAL 

I  have  found  me  a  man,  a  man  to  love  me, 
He  giveth  rich  gifts  and  a  priceless  name, 

He  hath  sworn  that  no  other  shall  live  above 

me, 
No  heart  shall  shelter  a  purer  fame. 

He  giveth  rich  gifts,  heart-thrilling  kisses, 
Tender  and  sweet  as  the  quickened  spring, 

Tender  and  sweet  as  the  gentle  blisses 

Of   moonflower   vines   that   the   night   winds 
swing. 

He  hath  given  me  tears,  in  his  clear  eyes  shin 
ing* 

Those  gentle  eyes,  looking  leal  and  true, 
Whose  long,  dark  lashes  would  thwart  divining, 

Unless  my  eyes  were  to  pierce  them  through. 

Yea,  he  is  strong,  but  his  touch  is  tender, 
And  he  is  sweet  as  the  perfume,  blent 

Of  orange  and  rose,  where  the  ranches  render 
To  sunlit  breezes  a  subtle  scent. 

I  have  found  me  a  man,  I  have  held  and  made 
him, 

What  first  was  good  I  shall  make  complete; 
No  other  woman  like  me  hath  swayed  him, 

Nor  bowed  his  shoulders  to  kiss  her  feet. 

[56] 


I  have  found  me  a  man,  from  himself  I  bought 
him. 

Gold  from  the  dross  and  better  from  worse; 
No  other  woman  like  me  hath  taught  him 

The  great  white  law  of  the  universe. 

No  other  hath  said :     "We  shall  dwell  together, 
Not  thou  the  ruler,  nor  servant  I, 

But  mighty  equals  to  face  all  weather, 

Who  love  one  God  and  that  God  on  high ; 

"Who  take  the  good  of  the  world  and  offer 
What  each  hath  taken  with  each  to  share, 

Resolved  in  love  but  the  best  to  proffer, 
Forever  ready  the  best  to  dare." 

Heart  of  my  heart,  O  my  life's  great  glory, 
Promise  of  peace  that  I  wait  for  long, 

This  is  the  pith  and  the  glow  of  my  story, 
Since    love's    great    beauty    hath    made    me 
strong: 

I  have  found  me  a  man,  let  creation  hearken, 
A  man  who  loves  me  by  day,  by  night, 

In    the    rash,    red    dawn,    when    the    shadows 

darken — 
I  have  found  me  a  man,  and  a  soul's  delight! 


[57] 


TREASURES 

Think  you  that  I  shall  not  treasure 
Every  kiss  that  you  have  given, 
That  first  touch  upon  my  fingers, 
In  the  shadow  of  the  garden, 
As  a  fairy  moth's  wing  tender? 

Think  you  that  I  shall  not  treasure 
That  warm  bloom  of  purest  passion, 
Where  the  clematis,  a-tremble, 
Screened  red  lips  with  red  lips  meeting? 
Or  the  many  true  love-blossoms, 
Lightly,  fragrantly,  serenely, 
Blown  against  my  throat  and  tresses, 
In  the  gentle,  cooling  night  wind? 

They  are  jewels  I  have  chosen, 
Flowers  all,  that  I  have  gathered 
From  the  garden  of  my  lover, 
From  his  treasure  house  of  wonder ; 
Light  and  rest  and  bloom  of  beauty, 
For  the  life  that  we  are  living. 

Nay,  more  dear,  I  even  treasure 
Full  blown  roses  yet  ungatheired— 
Bloom  of  love  upon  my  bosom, 
For  your  lips  and  fingers  waiting; 
Sweet,  ah  piercing  sweet,  they  quiver, 
Yet  unknown  and  unacknowledged. 

[58] 


Think  you  that  I  shall  not  treasure 
Every  word  that  you  have  spoken, 
Every  look  of  love  and  rapture 
From  your  blue  eyes  outward  shining? 

Dearer  even  than  your  kisses, 

That  first  solemn,  shy,  "I  love  you," 

In  the  darkness  softly  uttered; 

That  repeated,  sweet,  "I  love  you," 

As  another  step  we  mounted, 

Or  another  gateway  opened; 

That  mute,  precious,  proud,  "I  love  you," 

Heard  distinct,  when  wiser  speaking 

Evanescent  is,  and  fruitless; 

Or  that  crescive,  huge,  "I  love  you," 

Rousing  all  our  human  nature, 

Drawing,  like  a  mighty  magnet, 

Each  to  each  our  metal  nearer, 

Flesh  to  flesh  and  self  to  other, 

Life  to  life  and  soul  to  soul,  dear. 

Think  you  that  I  shall  not  treasure 

Every  true  love  sign  and  token? 

By  the  God  that  gave  our  substance, 

And  the  laws  that  govern  substance, 

Grave  the  real,  primal  beauty 

Of  a  man  and  of  a  woman, 

Gave  their  God-like  power  of  life-gift; 

By  the  law  that  made  us  dual, 

Each,  alone,  not  quite  perfected, 

[59| 


Joined,  an  integer  triumphant— 
Every  kiss  of  yours  I  treasure, 
Every  look  and  word  remember, 
And  I  swear  that  we,  together, 
Shall  a  little  draw  the  shadows 
From  the  clouded  form  of  Beauty, 
Till  we  see  her  limbs  and  features, 
And  reveal  them  clear  to  others. 

Pudency  inglorious  leaving, 

I  believe  that  love  is  holy, 

At  its  height,  an  act  of  worship ; 

Verily,  an  acquiescence 

In  the  law  God  gave  for  nature. 

Else,  why  blooms  the  flower  sweetly, 

When  the  pollen  crowds  the  pistil? 

Ah,  my  dear,  when  we  are  ready, 
Strong  in  spirit  as  in  body, 
We  shall  make  in  love  together, 
Human  and  divine  communion. 


[60] 


WITH   NATIVE   CANDOR 

Do  you  love  me,  dear,  in  the  wildwood  way, 
With  the  love  that  runs  alert  in  the  night, 
And  swells  wild  throats  with  a  wild  delight, 

That  seeks  and  gets,  and  forgets  with  the  day? 

Do  you  love  as  the  eagles  love  in  the  sky, 
Or  the  mad,  majestic  beasts  of  the  earth, 
When  the  spring  is  new?     Is  there  mighty 
mirth 

In  yielding  strength,  or  the  rage  of  the  eye? 

Under  the  same  bright  sun  you  dwell, 

And  the  same  earth  yields  her  life  to  you ; 
If  you  love  as  her  other  children  do, 

Who  shall  rebuke?     Not  I !     'Tis  well. 

But  if  this  be  all — if  your  heart  be  void 

Of   the    priceless   thing   that   proclaims   the 

man, 
That  stays  the  arch  in  the  perfect  span 

From  the  beast  to  God — then  is  love  destroyed. 

For  above  the  knees  and  above  the  breast, 
My  longing  rises  and  strives  to  win 
The  highest  shrine.     I  would  enter  in 

Where  the  brute  is  least  and  the  man  is  best ! 


UNISON 

Up  from  the  heart's  warm  depths, 
Up  from  the  centers  of  life, 
Rushes  a  song  to  Heaven, 

A  song  of  joy; 
For,  in  the  fulness  of  time, 
And  by  His  mighty  law, 
God  has  given  us  love 
Without  alloy. 

Flesh  that  is  sound  and  sweet, 
Spirits  that  strive  and  win, 
Hopes  of  a  human  life 

Almost  divine — 
These  are  our  priceless  dower, 

Blessing,   and   source  of  strength ; 
By  their  increasing  light 
Our  lives  shall  shine. 

Up  from  the  heart's  warm  depths, 
Up  from  the  centers  of  life, 
Rises  and  rings  a  psalm, 

O'er  self  and  sense — 
Love  that  is  high  and  pure 
Lives  and  endures  to  the  end, 
Conquering  lesser  loves 
By  love  immense! 


[62] 


THE  SECRET 

Why  arc  we  great  in  each  other's  eyes  and  why 

is  there  no  rivalry  between  us, 
What  is  the  secret  of  the  joy  of  our  life? 

It  is  this,  O  beloved,  that  you,  on  my  breast 

and  in  my  heart, 

Are  as  clean,  as  moral,  as  beautiful  as  I. 
It  is  this,  O  beloved,  that  I,  in  life  and  in  your 

mind, 
Am  as  poised,  as  proud,  as  complete  mentally 

as  you. 
The  secret  of  the  joy  of  our  life  is  a  secret  of 

love  and  labor, 
Of  perfect  equals,  friends  and  lovers,  a  woman 

and  a  man ! 


[631 


A  WOMAN'S  BELOVED 

A    PSALM 

To  what  shall  a  woman  liken  her  beloved, 
And  with  what  shall  she  compare  him  to  do 
him  honor? 

He  is  like  the  close-folded  new  leaves  of  the 
woodbine,  odorless,  but  sweet, 

Flushed  with  a  new  and  swiftly  rising  life, 

Strong  to  grow  and  give  glad  shade  in  sum 
mer. 

Even  thus  should  a  woman's  beloved  shelter 
her  in  her  time  of  anguish. 

And  he  is  like  the  young  robin,  eager  to  try 

his  wings, 
For  within  soft  stirring  wings  of  the  spirit 

has  she  cherished  him, 
And  with  the  love  of  the  mother  bird  shall 

she  embolden  him,  that  his  flight  may 

avail. 

A  woman's  beloved  is  to  her  as  the  roots  of  the 

willow, 
Long,  strong,  white  roots,  bedded  lovingly  in 

the  dark. 
Into  the  depths  of  her  have  gone  the  roots 

of  his  strength  and  of  his  pride, 


[64] 


That  she  may  nourish  him  well  and  become 

his  fulfillment. 

None  may  tear  him  from  the  broad  fields  where 
he  is  planted! 

A  woman's  beloved  is  like  the  sun  rising  upon 
the    waters,    making    the    dark    places 
light, 
And   like   the   morning   melody   of  the   pine 

trees. 

Truly,  she  thinks  the  roses  die  joyously 
If  they  are  crushed  beneath  his  feet. 

A  woman's  beloved  is  to  her  a  great  void  that 

she  may  illumine, 
A  great  king  that  she  may  crown,  a  great 

soul  that  she  may  redeem. 
And  he  is  also  the  perfecting  of  life, 

Flowers    for   the   altar,   bread   for   the   lips, 
wine  for  the  chalice. 

You  that  have  known  passion,  think  not  that 

you  have  fathomed  love. 
It  may  be  that  you  have  never  seen  Love's 

face. 
For  love  thrusts  aside  storm  clouds  of  passion 

to  unveil  the  Heavens, 

And,  in  the  heart  of  a  woman,  only  then  is 
love  born. 

t  65  1 


To  what  shall  I  liken  a  woman's  beloved, 

And  with  what  shall  I  compare  him  to  do 

him  honor? 

He  is  a  flower,  a  song,  a  struggle,  a  wild  storm, 
And,  at  the  last,  he  is  redemption,  power,  joy, 

fulfillment  and  perfect  peace. 


[66] 


sov;  or  TIM;  iwim:  TO  m: 

A  WOMAN'S  EPITHALAMIUM 

()  claim  me  now,  life  calm  and  continent, 

Sweet  winged  and  spiritual,  sane  and  free, 
Give  me  that  love  for  which  my  love  is  spent, 
Give  me  new  strength  for  what  I  yield  to  thcc. 
Into  his  arms  I  go  with  confidence, 
A  maiden,  yet  a  woman  for  his  sake, 

His  equal,  fit  to  labor  at  his  side, 
Knowing    not    where    the    travail    is,    nor 

whence, 
Ready  to  wring  my   heart  till   it   shall 

break, 

Ready    to  fight   all   wrongs   by    him 
defied. 

Sweet  are  the  roses  I  have  known,  ay  fair 

Are  the  white  lilies  that  my  hands  have  found 
In  my  virginity,  and  yet  I  dare 

To    leave    them    all    to    bloom    in    younger 

ground, 

And,  into  my  chaste  garden,  call  new  life, 
And  flowers  I  know  not,  venture  not  to 

name, 

But   am  prepared  to  love  and  wisely 
tend, 


[67] 


That    there   may    be    for   me   no    petalled 

strife, 
No  blossoms  fallen  from  weight  of  heavy 

shame, 

That   all   may   bloom   divine   for   my 
best  friend. 

Standing  beneath  the  arches  of  a  gate, 

That  gives  grand  entrance  to  the  path  un 
tried, 

I  tremble,  seeing  there  my  human  fate, 
To  entrance  all  returning  is  denied, 

And  yet,  the  tremulous  throb  of  the  heart 

I  hush 
With  thoughts  of  him  for  whom  I  mutely 

yield, 
Whose  human  depths  and  heights  are 

mine  to  know, 
Of  whose  warm  blood  I  love  the  rise  and 

rush, 

Whose  life  shall  be  most  utterly  revealed 
To  me,  a  unity  of  love  or  woe. 

To-night  the  woman  nature  sings  aloud 
A  song  half  pensive,  wholly  jubilant, 

For  all  I  leave,  and  for  the  beauty  proud 
That  he  may  give,  for  days  made  militant. 


[68] 


I  hear  the  solemn  and  announcing  voice, 
Foretelling  in  my  heart  the  cry  of  birth 
And     promising     fulfillment     to    our 

souls ; 

Ay,  even  now  I  hear  one  say,  "Rejoice! 
A  child's  sweet  eyes  are  opened  on  the 

earth, 

Whose  young  necessity  our  toil  con 
trols  !" 

Ah,  for  no  mortal  revel  was  I  made, 

A  woman  sane,  not  famished  of  desire, 
Shall  I  meet  his  true  eyes,  for  I  am  swayed 
By  no  mere  love  of  the  lips ;  and  I  aspire 
That  sweet  communion  of  the  body  bring 
But   nearer,   time  by   time,   the   spirit's 

tryst, 
And  highest   worship,   in  one  blessed 

psalm 
That  to  the  great,  white  Father  we  shall 

sing, 
For  his  high  laws,  seen  dimly,  through  a 

mist. 

O   claim   me  now,  life  continent  and 
calm ! 


[69] 


FULFILLMENT 


The  graybeards  had  compassion  on  me  in  my 

day  of  rejoicing, 

For  they  said,  "She  does  not  know— 
The    snowy    crowned    old    women    shook    tears 

from  their  eyes, 

For  they  said,  "She  is  innocent — " 
The  young  men  and  women  who  had  gone  on 

before  me  smiled  wistfully, 
For  they  said,  "She  also  is  young — 
Even  the  cynics  advised  me, 

For  they  thought  that  I  was  about  to  go  the 

way  of  all  flesh. 
One  and  all,  they  saw  my  bud  blasted  and  my 

sunlight  shadowed, 

My  dream   routed,  my  vision   eclipsed,  giving 
place  to  merely  practical   satisfaction ; 
They    saw    my    soul    besmirched,    perhaps    de 
stroyed. 

They    warned    me    of    disappointment    that    I 

might  not  be  disappointed, 
Of  sadness,  that  I  might  not  be  too  often  sad, 
Of  pain,  that  I  might  not  suffer  too  deeply, 
Of  the  carnal,  that  I  might  be  able,  perchance, 

to  save  a  partial  soul  alive. 


[70] 


Tears  they  tried  to  pour  into  my  cup  of  rap 
ture, 

That  a  wonted  taste  might  give  no  shock  of 
bitterness. 

They  would  have  girded  my  waist  with  fire,  in 

all  kindliness, 

That  I  might  feel  the  less  the  brand  of  ruth 
less  desire: 

For  they  said,  "There  is  somewhat  of  crape  be 
neath  every  wedding  veil !" 

All   this,   because   they   loved   me.     And   yet   I 

went  on  my  way  heedless  and  confident, 
Heedless   of   compassion    and    advice,   confident 

that  the  warnings  were  vain, 
Nourishing  in   my   heart   the   bud  of  promise, 

warm  with  sunlight, 
Refusing  the  tears  and  the  firebrand ; 
For  I  had  faith  in  the  hands  that  held  me,  in  the 

eyes  that  met  mine, 
In  the  proud  pledge  of  his  mind,  in  the  beauty 

of  his  spirit- 
Thus  I  went  on  my  way. 

In  the  evening  I  slept,  and  in  the  morning  I 
awoke  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  my 
soul,  demanding  entrance; 

[71] 


And  I  asked,  "What  cheer,  O  Soul? 

What  of  the  hour  of  knowledge? 

What  of  the  day  of  fulfillment? 
Then  my  soul  arose  and  stood  before  me,  naked 
and  fearless, 

And  answered  me  proudly: 

"Open  the  windows,  that  the  old  men  and  women 

may  look  in  and  see  my  sunlight! 
Open    the   windows    that   the  young   men   and 

women  may  catch  the  scent  of  my  per 
fect  blossom ! 
Open  the  windows  that  the  music  of  my  joy  may 

go  out  to  confound  the  cynics! 
Tell  them  that  I  am  not  saddened,  neither  am  I 

disappointed, 

No,  not  for  a  fraction  of  time. 
Show  them  that  there  is  no  suffering  for  me, 

save  gladness, 
That  I  am  not  at  war  with  the  flesh,  nor  is  the 

flesh  divided  from  me  against  me. 
Lo,  I  am  whole,  sane,  sound,  more  glorious  than 

before, 

For  my  dream  is  become  actuality, 
My  vision  is  become  fulfillment, 
My   ideal   is   become  as  God ;   He  mounts   His 

throne  and  reigns. 
For  me  there  are  no  tears,  there  is  no  brand  of 

fire!" 

[72] 


AN     INITIAL 

W,U-   BE   ASSESSED    FOR    FA  ^   pENAUTY 

TH,S  BOOK  °NTTO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
r^rTO'l  °oS  ON  THE  SEVENTH  O.V 
OVERDUE- 


LD  21-50m-l,'88 


LO     * 


''.j£i"rf*v— 


